A danger to animals

There are three species in this area that threatens the animal population; wolves, cougars, and me. I have a strange influence on my animals, it seems my personality and downfalls rubs off on them. I first noticed in high school with my horse, Sparkling Dewdrops. Dewdrop was a flashy palomino filly given to me by my dad before his death. "Treat her well, and you'll have a friend for life, a friend who'd kill herself to please you." Daddy said.

I wasn't to thrilled with the horse at first. Daddy had just sold Lightning, a palomino stallion I had raised from a foal. In my surly teenaged opinion, there was no other horse on the face of the earth thst could replace the muscular stallion. "She's no Lightning."

"I know she's not, and I know you miss that stallion; but you know we can't keep every horse born on this place." Daddy sighed. "Just give this filly a chance. She might surprise you."

Yeah right, I thought, walking around the palomino and eyeing her critically. She was tall and perfectly porportioned with a muscular rear end. She does look fast, I conceded. I took her head in my hands and stared into her large coffee-colored brown eyes. Maybe it was the hint of mischief that shone in her eyes. Perhaps it was the untamable fighting spirit she possessed that was similar to mine. Whatever it was, we connected.

I was the only one who she tolerated on her back, all other riders were thrown skyward. She a rebellious streak comperable to mine; you couldn't force either one of us to do something we didn't want to do.

Another animal victim was a a sorral filly I bought at a horse auction. After a few months of nursing her back to health, I trained her to the saddle. I still wasn't aware what affect I had on animals. A horse is a herd animal, and looks to the leader for guidance; I was the head of the herd in this filly's eyes.

On afternoon we were working cattle at my mom's house. I walked through a metal gate and jumped when it clanged shut behind me. I though my uncle was walking through behind me, and he would catch the gate. "Holy crap, that scared me!" I told my uncle. My filly was tied to a fence outside the corral and witnessed the whole thing. A little later, I led her to toward the corral. She broke into a sweat and pulled away frantically as we neared that gate.

"It's okay baby," I crooned. "Nothing is gonna get ya." I had no clue she was terrified of the gate now. Still resisting slightly, she allowed me to lead her to the gate. As we walked through, the gate tapped her on the rump.
She squealed and collapsed on the ground. My uncle and a couple of other men rushed to us. Uncle Frankie knelt in the dirt and examined her thoughtfully.

"Did she have a heart attack?" I sobbed.

"No," Uncle Frankie said. "She's still breathing." A couple of minutes later, the filly groaned, shook her head, and struggled to her feet. I put her in her stall for the rest of the day. A couple of days later, again we were walking through a gate when the gate tapped her on the rump. In shock I watched as the filly groaned and collapsed on the ground in a dead faint. A horse can't see directly behind them, so anything touching them in the rear area is a surprise. I believe to this day the filly saw my reaction when the gate startled me. In her mind, she saw the gate as a threat, so when it tapped her, she thought she was a goner.

And now to the present. . .

A dog is a graceful creature, right? Not in my case. The other day I watched as my Husky zipped up the drive toward me, his paws barely touching the ground. He looked like poetry in motion until. . .he tripped over a rock and fell flat on his face. *Sigh* Looks like I've rubbed of onto another animal.